The Walking Dead: A Cradle Of Conviction
by Jos Utopia
Summary: It's a fine line between morality and insanity. Who will be left, when the waning sun refuses to rise forevermore?
1. The Walking Dead

**The Walking Dead: Cradle Of Conviction**

The following are events and Characters of my own development placed in the world of 'The Walking Dead.'

* * *

'Feeble Bullets'

"Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person."

- Gerard Way

No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow

- Euripides

So that you may eat the flesh of kings and the flesh of commanders and the flesh of mighty men and the flesh of horses and of those who sit on them and the flesh of all men, both free men and slaves, and small and great.

- Revelation 19:18

Tony

He bunched his fists and tensed his body. Dust blew around the two boys like a tornado, whipping at their eyes. The other children made it ever more claustrophobic through their tight circle and cruel shouts.

Tony ducked under a frightfully fierce air swing, only to be kicked in the back onto the nasty black dirt. He spun to face his attacker, too late; Blake lunged down on top of him, fists flying.

Tony blocked it out, closing his eyes and drifting away.

They teased him for his lanky frame, bright crimson lips and messy brown hair. But he knew it was just because he was introverted, an eight year old recluse.

Whistles. The beating abruptly stopped and the weight lifted. He opened his eyes as best he could and found Mr. Alvarez dragging Blake away across the far courtyard. The crowd had deserted the area, taking off in all directions.

Three days in a row now Tony found himself up at the Headmaster's office, sitting in the plastic blue chairs, waiting to be addressed.

7…

8…

9…

He counted 9 bruises along his arms; he dared not look out the window lest he should see a reflection of his beaten face.

Tony barely spoke. He just sat, face as blank as paper, yet he understood all that was happening around him, often he saw things others did not.

He certainly looked upon the world differently; he saw a fragile enigma slowly falling apart. It was like someone had drawn a line through the middle of the world. People were separated… drifting apart.

The Headmaster yelled at Blake and forced an apology; it was all just procedure.

A long wait while next to him Blake made faces and discreetly kicked his chair. But he remained motionless. Silent.

His mother Evian knocked on the mahogany door lightly and the headmaster ushered her in. A brief exchange of words and then Tony was out… free. Evian stayed silent on the matter and they both just climbed in the SUV and whisked away down onto the highway.

And all before midday.

She kept peeking in the rear-view mirror, looking at Tony with that worried mother look. She pondered whether she should say anything.

All at once they both spoke.

'I hate them mom. With all my heart.'

'Ton' its okay, I get it. Lets go.'

'Home?'

'No, just for a drive.'

'Where?'

'Anywhere.'

'What if we get lost?'

'We won't'

'How do you know?'

'Tony… '

'Mom, look.'

'Ton' I'm driving, what is it?'

'A shooting star' he said, less than subtly changing the subject.

She saw it now, it was hard to miss. Her tone dropped and she pulled over into the pickup bay.

'Tony?' she called.

'Yes, mom?' he said gazing at the rocketing object.

'Close your eyes. Pray… just do something.'

'Mom?'

'Jus-,'

'-Okay', Tony interjected, squeezing his eyes shut. Beside them, an ambulance swerved across all four lanes before colliding into an oncoming school bus. Glass shattered; flames began to roar.

Evian started to turn the car around, only to find several more vehicles plow into one another, fragmentation hammered into the side of the SUV like thunder. She stole a quick glance to the front only to find the object had become fully recognisable as a failing aircraft, on a crash course into the freeway.

'Tony?'

'Yeah?'

'I love you…"

'You to mum'

Evian began to scream, all the pain of life accumulating in a single moment.

Then the Boeing struck the bitumen.

Lauren

"_Time passes slowly in the city of the dead."_

Atlanta fell.

Slowly at first, while the military were still in control. Then it spread, and so too did the lack of government jurisdiction over the city.

Thrice men had broken into their apartment building on Courtland Street. And thrice they had shot them dead, a single bullet to the head.

Josie, her sixteen-year-old sister had done it. Though Josie was three years younger, she had the stronger heart. She was stubborn, but in a world where everything is a threat, it becomes a valuable trait.

Max, at fourteen was in complete shock. For the first ten days he'd hidden under his mother's bed. Lauren wished she could do that. But she hadn't, because she had to be tough.

Dad said he needed to go and pick up his own parents.

That was a week ago.

Max had begged him not to leave. But he left, suitcase in hand. He just walked out the door. It was funny, seeing him standing on the sidewalk out the front. People were running, tearing through traffic. It had been loud and chaotic. Everyone was carrying weapons and shoving through.

But there stood father. Alone, separate from the clangor. A single briefcase in a maze of machetes. And then he walked, getting in his little white Commodore and driving off.

And now mum was sick, and she blamed him for it. She _hated_ him for it. Or she thought she did. Mum had stepped outside, calling for hours in heed of him. A terror had come over her, a tremor in her heart. And now a deep gash ran from her shoulder across to her throat.

And so I left, to find something. Someone. Because "I no longer have anything to lose, and yet everything to die for."

She clasped the pistol she'd stolen and took to the streets.

'Dad!' she cried and cried and cried. 'Dad!' There was no answer but from the howl of walkers, as they turned to her.

'Lauren, what are you doing?' Josie ran out screaming, max stepped out behind her, sobbing uncontrollably. In the top window she could see her mothers own face, hollow, afraid. The creatures stumbled down the street, their claws gnashing at each other, ripping each other apart to reach the fray.

Tears rolled freely from Lauren's face. Tears of happiness, because there, in that swirling horde of death she saw a familiar face, the same one that she'd watched leave from the doorstep.

And a smile crossed her lips. Josie ran down to tear her away, so she raised her gun. And she stopped running.

Lauren saw her father.

Her mother. Sister. Brother. Then she saw the barrel of her own gun.

Blam!

And Josie stopped. And max knelt down.

And the world slipped away.

The light dissipated, so the stars could come. But they did not appear.

And the city of Atlanta was jet-black, an inky metropolis set on paper.

Dark.

Desolate.

_Dead..._

Ruben

The alarm had rung at 12p.m.

Ruben, a small student with dusty brown hair, clear green eyes and thin-rimmed glasses stood shell-shocked in the hallway. Toby, his brother stood down the far end of the long corridor. He looked different. Darker somehow. He was bleeding, hunched over, he stared at Ruben, teeth bared wide.

'Toby!' he called. 'What's wrong with you?'

There was only silence.

'Please!'

Toby began to limp towards him.

There had been an epidemic or something. It was all over the news. It was wrong to call it that, because no one really new what it was. But people were...

_Hunting_.

Toby came closer and Ruben saw the flesh torn from his scalp. His clothes were in tatters. Ruben compared him to rotting meat.

Then Mr. Aprils, the Hercules of the metal work department dashed out from beside him and raced up the corridor. His dark apron fluttered out and fell onto the floor.

Ruben screamed.

Aprils roared.

Toby gargled in the back of his throat. Then looked up, directly into Ruben's eyes.

This wasn't Toby. This wasn't even human. Its eyes were milky pale, its skin peeling back and revealing a grotesque meat.

Ruben turned away and retched. As he turned, Mr. Aprils barreled into the dying corpse and crushed it into the far wall. Then with out so much as flinching crushed its skull with one large, meaty fist.

Toby's head exploded over the ground and wall. Ruben stared, not comprehending what had just transpired. Time slowed.

Mr. Aprils took to his feet and looked down at Ruben, face as pale as it was covered in gore. Then a hundred thrashing walkers crushed him, and he disappeared in an instant under a surging wave of flesh and bone.

Who knew what took place in Ruben's mind at that point. But his head spun radically, and he turned, tears streaming like ribbons off his cheeks and he ran, back into the metal working rooms and threw the door shut behind him. Turning the lock he hastened to the back of the room, taking a large steel mallet. Crack! The door was hit. Hard. A pallid hand crashed through the square window in the centre of the wooden entry.

Throwing on a welding mask he raced towards the crowd in a screaming rage of both horror and rage. The Walkers exploded through the feeble doorway.

Ruben charged.

The walkers snarled.

And he tripped on his own fear halfway across the room.

Hurley

He pulled the car across to the side of the corroded steel water tank. The old VW rattled onto the bottom of an incline up Mount Charter. Kicking his dirty black jeans out and crunching down on the compact red dirt, Hurley stepped out. His Callused knuckles were dry and cracked, his face no better. Each wrinkle stood out like a deep ditch, his scars ran bottomless. With hands as pockmarked as paint from the sweltering sun he slowly unbuttoned his filthy green shirt. He tucked it into the back of his pants and pulled on his Baseball cap. The sun was high in the sky and the large tanker sent a lengthy shadow across the Earth. Crouching down, he laid a stiff hand on the Gauge, wiping away the dust. All the readings seemed fine, if not a little low. Showers would be short.

Reaching under the stilts of the hulking object he felt around until he found a bucket. Water was still leaking steadily through.

Hurley strolled back over to the car and pulled out a long length of duct tape. Ripping it into several smaller pieces with his teeth. He pulled himself partly under and covered the leak. He crawled back out and stood up, dusting his hands off on his chest. It was dry and unrelenting. The farming had been poor, hand feeding was expensive and the previous rain, a mere four days ago had proved relatively unfruitful.

The farm was running dry in more aspects than one however. The mortgage, the taxes, groceries; it was all weighing him and Anna down. What was worse is that it made them feel like they were letting their two young boys down.

Returning home in the evening he pulled down into the swept driveway. Jaylan his six year old and youngest son ran down to greet his father at the bottom of the verandah. The boy wore a collared pajama shirt covered in pink, yellow and green dinosaurs. Accompanying it he also had a bath towel. Anna ran out behind him, the screen door clacking shut.

'Jaylan, get back here now!' The little boy just ran on, squealing with delight. Hurley stepped from the VW and knelt down. Jaylan ran right up into his arms. Anna's whole aura lifted when she saw her husband. Her eyes relaxed and a smile formed on her lips. She walked down and kissed him on the cheek.

'How's the place keeping on the far side?' she asked.

'Fine as things go. We should be right for the next week or so if we take it easy.'

'It's good to hear… look, I'm going to take a trip into town and pick up some bits and pieces before dark; would you mind getting something into the young ones?'

'Its okay, ill head in.' as he said it, a smile appeared. Corbin, their ten-year-old son had been playing up incessantly and he didn't mind having a bit of alone time with the radio.

'If you want, but hurry.' Anna raced back inside and when she returned handed him a shopping list full of groceries.

'I'll be back in an hour or so.'

'Dinner'll be ready when you get back.' She said.

Hurley lifted Jaylan up by the armpits and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

'Love you's' he called as Anna tossed him the car keys for the families light blue pickup.

'Be good Jaylan' and then, in a much louder voice he called ' that's you too Corbin!' knowing that somewhere he was listening in.

The sun was casting deep hues of orange across the sky. Patch worked blue intertwined, mingling with each tone, creating a collage of color. The pickup drove down into the dying sunset. It glared into his eyes and tinted his windows, it was all the dust being picked up somewhere in the horizon. Just before the waning light descended, clouds began to roll in, it wasn't uncommon, dark clouds came and went often enough; but it was something about the way they lingered.

He rolled down the window and was stunned by the pickup in humidity. The rain… he could feel it in the air, the dampness. Then he heard something, a vehicle. He could smell the diesel before he saw the jeep. It was flying down the narrow gravel road. As it neared, Hurley pulled the pickup across onto the side of the road. The Jeep seemed to roll right down as it came beside him. A thin wily man with a 223. hunting rifle rode on the back of the jeep, giving an unnervingly wicked grin.

'Aye, he called. Where you going mate, in town? Won't find much there at the moment I'm afraid.'

Hurley just stared at him questioningly.

Another bloke, this one thickset with several chins poked his head out the window.

'Oi, where you comin' from, you got some property outta town? Bet it just down this way here ain't it?'

The bony man called back out ' reckon there's a lovely lady with one or two bright young-ens runnin' round her legs.'

Then The driver again, ' and lips the color of Ichor, aha-ha-ha!' they both began to laugh cruelly, revealing teeth like rotten stumps. The man on the back lifted a dead animals rotting corpse up in one hand and snapped its neck, smiling the whole while.

The farmer stood awestruck, wondering who the hell these freaks were.

The jeep took off and as Hurley took one final look back he saw the heads, spines and other gruesome body parts of varying animals stuck or nailed to the back of the truck. Blood rolled steadily from the tray down onto the road, creating a grisly trail.

He drove as fast as the old pickup could go, hammering his way down the strip into the frail old township.

He was late. The sun, or what was left of it, slowly disappeared. He pulled up out the front of the grocers and immediately noticed how deserted it all was. Running over to the payphone out the front he slipped some coins into the slot and prayed the damn thing would work. Silence. It seemed like far too long, but after a panicky minute it started to ring. The long droll sounds seemed like music to his ears.

Anna picked up, 'Hello, Anna Moses speaking.'

'Anna, oh God, it's me, its Hurley. Where are you now? Are you safe?'

'Honey, What's wrong?'

'Men, there were two men. You've gotta go somewhere.'

'What? Just stop. Now, who's coming? Anna said assuringly.

On the other end of the phone, Hurley took a few deep breaths. '… On the way into town I met two freaks driving a filthy old jeep. One of them was carrying a rifle and they were talking of coming your way. Anna, something's amiss, the town's soulless.'

'Hurley, they were probably just trying to freak you out. Why would they want to come out to our property?'

'No, these guys… I don't know, it was something about the way they were so sure of your presence_. _I want you to take Jaylan and Corbin out to the old shipping containers. Just hang out there, take a rifle.'

'Hurley, I'm not doing that. Just hurry back and don't worry.' She hung up.

He cursed into his shoulder, then straightening up thought about his next plan of action.

He told himself not to worry, that he was just getting paranoid.

Walking over to the grocers, he noticed the lights were now turned off. He pushed open the old glass doors and stepped inside to total darkness.

'Hello?' he called ' John?'

'Hurley, what the hell are you doing out here, get back out to your estate.' A bodiless voice called.

'John, where are you?' Hurley laughed.

A frail old man crawled out from behind the wooden counter.

Hurley had to squint to make him out in the pitch. He ran over to him and helped him to his feet. John flicked on the lights.

'_Jesus_' Hurley said when he saw the state of his old friend. John's eyes were red-raw and his left arm was hacked in half, a bloody stump was all that remained. His legs were scarred and bruised and both his kneecaps were blown out.

'What, what happened to you?' he stuttered.

'Hurley I… I… there were people, they were dead… everyone… Abby, Lewis, Carter…they're… they're… and I thought maybe you too but…'

'John, What do you mean? What's going on?'

'The radio… an outbreak or… or epidemic...they weren't sure.' But people are killing people. They're dying and then they wake up and eat… eat… Abby. Hurley, they ripped her throat out.'

'John.'

And then the lights died.

Blam!

Blam!

Shotgun shells rocked the small store. Windows exploded.

'Hurley… they're… coming.'

John fell forward down onto the counter and dragged Hurley with him. Then, reaching down he pulled a steel pole wrapped with rusty barbed wire out from the counter. Horrid pale flesh hung from the Barbs. He handed it to Hurley, 'Go… leave out the back.'

'Hold on' Hurley lifted the old man onto his back.

'Just go!'

The Building shuddered once more as another volley of fire erupted in a hail of lead.

Hurley bolted, and the men outside closed in on the building. What was remained of the doors was kicked in.

The back exit led out to an overgrown field of wheat. Frantically he raced up through the crops, hoping to reach the road as it curved back around a mile away.

Four men, covered from head to toe in dirt and dry blood stalked through the old building. Three had shotguns, the third an old hacksaw dripping in gore. The back door drew to a quiet close. They raced for the exit and ducked outside, weaving their way ahead of each other, eager to get to the kill. The men they hunted were pushing through the field, one on the others shoulders. They lifted their guns and fired…

Bullets ripped through the world around them, tearing at a reality Hurley refused to believe. Then John curled in pain on his shoulders, writhing. Bullets hacked into his body. His frame shielded Hurley, but he felt the man's flesh tear and give way.

He went limp. A deadweight he could no longer hold. So he dropped his time old friend with no less than a blink of an eye. And when the tormentors behind him reached the body they dragged him away out of view, Giving up Hurley as lost.

The tall Grasses rose to his neck as he pushed further into the property. At once it cleared and he rushed out into an open plain. A small house sat at the edge of the road.

He took the plank and hastened. Walking up the porch and checking the windows, the curtains were drawn. He rasped on the door to no reply. He tried again.

Nothing.

He twisted the doorknob and it clicked open.

He shuffled his way in.

It was dark.

He moved to the window and pulled the curtains back. A dim pale light sifted in. he walked down the hallway and entered into a lounge area. A body lay sprawled across the entrance; its spine had been torn out. He gagged but held it down. Stepping over the body, he saw suspended from the far roof three bodies hung. One by its feet, the other two choked by their necks. The bodies were pale, or what was left of them. The one hung by its feet had its head lopped off at the shoulders, the others legs had been severed. A pair of milky blue eyes tore open, then a second. The two suspended upside down were still alive.

Grumbling they tried to claw out at him, but he was millimeters out of reach. They bared red teeth. Bloodstained fingertips brushed his shirt.

_It was a family, a mother and her two children, a little boy and a girl. It must be there father in the hall. _Hurley thought despairingly.

Then a realization hit him like a stone to the back of the head. Those body parts strapped to the back of the jeep, they were hunted creatures of a different kind...

They were human.

Then the rain hammered down on the tin roof, and Hurley beat the living dead with the barbed old plank. And the house shuddered with the rage of a wrathful storm.


	2. Tony: Collision

Tony

_Dear God, please hear what I have to say. Keep mummy safe and help her to be happy. Help me to be happy too. Thankyou for the lovely sunshine and I'm sorry I got in a fight. Holy guardian angel, please watch over us toda-_

The SUV rocked and Tony's lungs filled with smoke. It was seeping through from outside. He began coughing uncontrollably, asthma.

He opened his eyes. Mum lay with her head on the window, blood running down the door.

He pulled her head back up and she moved, her arms flying out and wrapping around him, holding him close. The right side of her jaw was torn from ear to mouth, the skin ripped back. She began to moan and howl in pain. Tony jumped back, suddenly afraid. Opened the door and fell out down onto the road. His mother climbed out after him and fell down on top. He screamed and lashed out, pushing her off with his legs. Evian stopped moving, opened her eyes. They were milky white and bleeding profusely.

'Mum?'

A groan escaped Evian's lips.

Then she lashed out at Tony with her bruised arms. Grabbed at his legs.

Tony just lay there, stunned.

'Mum?' raging, he crashed his leg down into her face. Her nose broke with a crack. And Tony began to cry. She kept crawling, grabbing back at his legs. He kicked out again. This time her head split open.

All his strength depleted, he drew himself into a ball.

Evian lashed out at him. Tearing at his leg, with her long nails. They dug into his thighs.

Blood began to seep from the cut.

'Mum!'

Then a golf club came whistling down on her head. Then her spine.

Tony never saw the brutality. Nor felt the arms pick him up. He simply remained.

It felt like hours later, when he opened his eyes. He was lying beneath the highway. Overhead large cracks rippled in the road. A tall dark-skinned man knelt down beside him, offering a slice of bread. He just looked at it, and then turned his head. A little creek lay undisturbed down the bank, and two women with the dark skin as the man knelt in it, filling water bottles freely. A cry from over-head broke the equilibrium as a headless body sailed down from the road and crashed into the water. The two girls squealed and dashed out. He saw them clearer now; they couldn't be more than twenty.

Tony spun and saw the man looking up anxiously, a golf bag full with clubs slung over his back.

'Boy, you want to come?' the man said.

Tony looked up into his deep green eyes, and then looked towards where his car had been.

'Tory, Dana, pack the water, we'll head back up and try the road.'

'Papa, just lead the way.'

Dana had thick but tight, short-cropped hair that formed a small bun at the back. Tory wore a pink beanie and her long hair fell out the back down onto her thin shoulders.

All three began to walk away, when Tory turned and called back to him, ' come on boy, we need you as much as you need us.'

Tony stood up and realised her sentence hadn't made any sense, mainly because Tony had done nothing for them, so why would they need him at all?

He waited until the Family were a long distance ahead before he began his ascent up the dirt knoll and onto the gravel road.

He skirted the edge of vehicles before he came onto the bridge. It was quiet, just him and the cars and their bodies. Not once did the family ahead look back for him again. He reached the space they'd pulled into earlier and found his car. The left door was open where he crawled out. A body lay, head split open. It wore a pink singlet and denim jeans. Mum.

He didn't cry. He'd already come to some strange conclusion. He just knelt down, rolled her over onto her back. A deep growl emanated from beneath his car. He stepped back and lay down, peering under. 3 filthy, bloody dogs lay ready to pounce from beneath the vehicle. He walked over to them and ushered them out. Slowly they obeyed. They were big and brown with legs like signposts. A plan formulated in the 8 year olds mind. He stumbled ahead and found a broken off car-door and dragged it back to his mother. The dogs were licking at her smashed head and he shooed them away. Rolling her over onto the face of the door he then cut the cars seatbelts with the knife in the cars emergency kit. The dogs yelped when he tied their necks to the door.

Tony beat the dogs until they ran, pulling his mother along with them.

He walked beside his mother always, and kept the family ahead within the horizon. The dogs panted wildly as they pattered along the road.

All along walkers looked up at the awful grating of the door. They stumbled towards him, but he kept a hasty pace and out ran them at every turn. As he crossed a packed intersection a few miles from the bridge, he noticed one of the vehicles had ski gear for a family holiday.

The back door flew open when he grabbed the handle and grumbles from within the car could be heard. Ghoulish faces turned to look at Tony, but he did not fear them. He reached in and took two sharp ski poles. Using the remaining seatbelt, he created a sling for them to rest on his back. Then he continued on his path towards his foster family.

It was growing dark when he caught up to them; they turned and asked what the noise was. Then the dogs pulled up beside him. Dana sobbed when she saw the woman. Tory looked painfully down at Tony, as though she could empathise with him.

'Papa, we have to stop' she said.

That night, as he lay looking up at the purple streaks the moonlight on the drapes sent sprawling across the room, he thought about school that morning. He wondered where Blake was, where the Principal was, or… or dad.

He never slept, but kept his eyes closed and hands on the ski poles.

'When the sun disappears, and the moon brings out fears, where will I be, oh where will I be?

Will I hide beneath covers or run to the door? When the sun disappears, when the sun disappears.

The shadows are cast along the dark wall, they crawl and they scratch and they rise up and fall - when the sun reappears at my door.

The moon is full of faces, I say my nightly graces, and hope that by morn they'll be gone.

When the sun disappears ill be rid of the terror that gripped me so dear. When the sun reappears, when the sun reappears.'

Tony repeated the single verse for hours, till the sun did reappear and the faces of his family swam before his eyes. He saw them so vividly, so beautifully.

A bright face emerged from blankets across the room; Tory. Her hair was a tangle of light brown, and she struggled to open her eyes fully at first.

'Hey Tony.' She said, yawning wide.

'Hey.'

'How do you feel?' she asked. He shrugged in reply.

Behind her Dana began to snore loudly and then the father, Joseph, chorused her.

Tory joked and made faces, mocking them. A smile crossed Tony's lips.

After that she made him laugh and laugh. They both rolled on the floor for what seemed like hours.

Blam!

Blam!

The whole house shuddered and tears of laughter turned to salt. The others woke up. Joseph reached for his golf clubs and passed them between the girls. Tony pulled his harness of spears onto his back.

In moments they stood in the centre of the room, back to back, weapons raised.

A blinding instantly light filled the space. The glass shattered, a walker flying across the wall. Its body split as it hit the back. An arm lay at Tory's feet. She stared at it, horrified. Outside, two men were laying waste to a crowd of creatures. They were being overrun as the noise brought more and more.

'Dad!' Tory called.

' Girls, stay here.'

Dana dropped her club. Joseph raced for the door, and kicked it open, dashing outside into the bloody sunshine.

The club swung right, a brutal crunch that caved a walker's head in two. Another. Then another. Blood dripped from his driver and exploded in the air. Bullets raked the exterior of the house.

'Stop! You have to stop! You're drawing more and more in.' Joseph called to the men.

A bullet kicked him in the gut and he collapsed to the floor.

Walkers stumbled around him and he soon lost all sight of anyone else.

'Dana? Tory?'

A jaw bit into his spine and he felt his flesh tear away. Blood poured freely from his back.

'Tony?'

A steel pole withered over the top of his scalp and lodged through 2 walkers' brains. A knife came up behind them and ripped off their head's. At a moments notice, golf clubs, ski poles and blades created a swathing tide of gore, constantly pouring over Joseph's head. He felt the spray, the wet feeling, and the taste in his mouth. He stood up, hunched as he was from the wound and cracked a walker's head down into his knee.

Wielding his driver with both hands he caught one of the creatures in the space between. He pulled it close, tightening the club behind its neck. Its head writhed this way and that. Looked him in the eyes, and he stared right back. Their heads were pulled together but he tightened his grip on the driver once more. The shaft ripped through soft skin. Bone and vein ripped out. He screamed with delight and anger.

Tony saw the bullet hit Joseph in the chest, and then rip out the other side. A fine mist blew from his torso. A hundred dying corpses fell down on top of him, and he disappeared.

He didn't remember, but Tory drew the pole from his back and threw it like a spear. It arced across the front yard and came down, piercing through two walkers. A knife ripped their heads off and Tory ran in squealing, club raised high.

Tony looked back and saw Dana curse, but follow Tory out reluctantly. At the door Dana looked back at Tony.

'Coming or waiting?'

Tony darted out, swinging his last pole around like a sword. It crashed into a chest, then a head, a leg. A blood rage must have engulfed Joseph, for Tony saw five walkers go flying back as Joe gained his footing.

Then his vision blurred, wavered.

And the ground rose up to meet him.

'_Tony..._'

'Tony' another voice sung. A smiling woman looked him in the eyes. 'Tony.' Somewhere in the distance a siren blared. 'Tony, close your eyes. Tony.' His world rocked to the side. Thunder.

'Tony. I love you Tony.'

'I love you…'

'I love…'

'Love… I love you Tony.'

Another jolt. The woman hit her head on the window. Shattered.

_Screech. _Gravel and steel. Gravel and steel. Dogs barked.

Another face looked at him now. Its flesh hung from its eyelids. Its teeth were bared. The skin around the mouth was all gone. Rotted. Bloody gums and teeth remained. One eye was milky, the other stuck with glass. 'Tony.' It called. Then the dogs licked the face.

'Tony.'

'_Tony!_' his eyes opened. Tory looked down at him, calling. Dana walked around, hands on head, stressing.

'Dana, just slow down for two goddamn seconds.'

'Tory, what the hell? Dad's _gone_, and who knows what happened to those other guys?'

Tony called up to them. Tory helped him to his feet.

'Tony, dads gone and its all your freaking fault. If you weren't so slow we'd be miles ahead, and none of this would've happened.'

'Dana, slow down, that's not true and you know it!'

'It is true, bitch.' Dana hit Tory square across the face. A red mark instantly appeared. 'Dana!' Tory hit her back, and soon they were both swinging punches.

Tony was shocked.

'Mom, look.'

'_Ton' what is it, I'm driving?' _

Tony stared off down the corpse littered street.

He dropped his voice.

'Joseph.'

The two girls stopped. Tory clearly had a broken nose. Dana barely a bruise.

'_Jesus_' one of them whispered.

A body, with the limp of a walker stumbled down the street. Joseph's orange polo shirt and checker shorts hung from the flesh.

'Dad?'

'Dad!'

The two girls got to their feet and raced down towards him.

Tony was in a state of confusion. _What happened when he fainted?_

The girls stopped ten metres from the walker.

'Tony…' one of the girls screamed back.

He could see now it wasn't Joseph, it was a woman.

He met the girls. 'Tory… Dana? Who…what is it?'

A long pause. The moaning in the throat of the woman was the only sound in all the neighbourhood.

'…Mom…' The word barely slipped past Dana's lips.

'Mom.'

And then a gunshot echoed off the houses and a bullet hit the walker dead between the eyes. A ragged hole was left in her forehead. Dana collapsed to the gravel and held the body in her arms.

_And when the sun reappears, who will be left to tell the tale?_

_None. For we must ask ourselves, who will be left to read it?_

_Once the sun disappears, once the sun disappears…_


	3. Lauren: By the Hush of the Lamplight

Lauren

"_Let us find the hours gone missing in the daylight."_

I can feel toes. Legs.

A light snaps on, somewhere above me. It's pale. I can feel its warmth from so far away. It's not the sun. But I wish it were.

A streetlight, by our house. I look away down the road. A face is lying next to me. Its cheekbone is jutting beneath its left eye. It stares at me. Distant.

'Lauren.'

I turn to see max stalking through the bodies. He runs to me. Somewhere across the way Josie, with her long blonde plait turns and looks over.

Jumping over rotting corpses she catches up and lugs me over her shoulder.

Mum pulls open the door, she's till scarred from when she fell in search of dad.

Dad.

I scream and kick and claw away from Josie. Hitting the floor with a solid "thud". I crawl to the door.

Max is trying to pull me back by my leg.

By the doormat, I see my father. Several holes are torn in his face.

I turn to my family, horrified on all accounts. A thickset figure marches down the staircase behind mum, then stops a few feet from the bottom. He clutches the banister and looks right at me. I stare across at Josie.

'Lauren…' she says.

It's mum's previous husband. Cornelius 'Con' Perez. I catch his gaze and he looks away.

Suddenly, Max steals my view as he sits up in front of me.

'C'mon, you need to eat.'

'I think I'm gonna' be sick.' I look over his shoulder.

Then pull myself up inside the door. Josie walks over and shuts it.

By the shadow of my memory, I recount the flames that lick at my heels. Looking down, a thick cauldron is boiling over. My feet are dipped in the liquid. My whole body quivers in the blazing waters. My skin peels back, flaying. My teeth are bared wide as the jaw sheds its skin. I don't recognize myself in the vision anymore. Then I'm standing back out on that street, my father walking down towards me. A pistol in my hand.

I can see right down into the barrel. A face looking back up at me. My face. My human face.

Then flames erupt from the tube. Up into my mouth. I catch on fire, and I'm once again a flayed body in the cauldron.

I sit up, lying on the hardwood floor beside my bed, sheets hanging down around me.

It's wrong. I didn't shoot myself in the head. I didn't. I turned the pistol away.

Josie walks in, anxiously looking down at me.

'I shot him.' I blurt inadvertently.

'I know.'

'It burns. Hurts so much.'

'That's because you took the pistol and shot my father in the head. His brains blew onto the sidewalk. The one he took to work everyday.'

'I didn't mean-'

'I'm going to shoot _you_ in the head, Lauren.'

Click.

Josie pulled out a dark weapon. Held it to my head. I could feel the strange tingle as it sent shivers down my back. It was cold on my hot forehead.

The door burst open once again. A silhouetted figure fell through into the room.

'Josie!'

She didn't turn. But tears dripped off her jaw. One by one.

Blam!

The gun fired. The roaring ricocheting through the house…. through my heart.

I watched as the bullet slammed unreservedly into my body. I twisted, contorting unnaturally, and watched as my lifeblood hit the wall.

Josie was on her knees whimpering as Con' stood over her. He was dragging her away.

When they disappeared into the light of the hallway, a lonely figure remained at the door, half hidden around the corner. Max. Then he too was gone.

Mum raced up the stairs, bandages, scissors and pain-killers in hand.

Con' comes in and helps drag me back up onto the bed. I moan in deep agony.

_Christ_, help me. What life is this? But one where we face our death each day and march beside it. Unless we take it hand in hand we will not see the light of day again. Where I fall now, I live or I die, but I cannot tell the difference anymore.

Max brought a knife to my room, it was thin, with a sharp blade that reflected ever so slightly with the moon. Mum took it, sent him away.

It felt like I was being wrenched around like a ragdoll, and thrust back down onto my bed equally hard.  
A jagged piece of metal clinked as it fell onto the floor. The ragged hole in my stomach was numb. Mum wiped the bloody knife on her pants and wrapped bandage after bandage around my waist.

Through the door, an eye seeped through. The keyhole was filled with the brown eye of a child. Max watched as his sister writhed on her bed. A knife in her belly and a gaping bloody wound. Then he watched as she stopped moving, as mum cleaned the wound, dematerializing as his mother slipped quietly back out the door.

When Lauren woke, she prayed that the world had changed again, to something else something new.

The sun wrought its passage through her bed and down onto the floor. She dragged herself up and sat with her elbows on the windowsill. It was early morning, but there were no birds.

She pulled her shirt up over her head and found the gauze crusty and dry with her blood. Changing her shirt she called out to her brother.

'Max!' she hailed gingerly.

There was a long pause, before she heard little feet scampering up the stairs. In burst Max carrying a walking stick.

'Laurie,' he said, handing the old wooden cane to her. 'I found this, it was in mum and dad's room.'

Lauren laughed as she caressed the wood. It was rough and coarse.

'C'mon' he squealed. She took his hand and was pulled to her feet. It hurt, but the pain was washed clean by the delight.

He held her hand all the way to the bottom of the stairs, at which he raced around the corner into the living room.

She walked in on Con' and mum lazily sitting across from each other. The big double windows that sat out the front were nailed with wooden board.

'How are you feeling?' mum asked.

'I'm alright' I said hesitantly looking around the room.

'Where's-' a voice cut me off from outside.

'-Oi, Con' I need to borrow your shirt for a sec.' Mum nodded approvingly at him. Con' stood up and shimmied his way past me. He opened the door and a rectangle of light illuminated the hallway for a moment, before he stepped outside.

'mum… why did you?'

'Lauren, don't. It wasn't up to you.'

'But why him? Did you even think about Uncle Crowley or-?'

'-I had to call him. The others are dead… or dying.'

'He can't help us mum.'

'He's got us this far.'

'What, boarding up a few windows and, and who the hell even is that outside?' she said as the drawling voice yelped in surprise and Con' roared at him in anger over some misdeed outside.

'Make sure you bring your shirt.' The man called. His red flannelette hung open several buttons down. He wore old blue jeans and a bright pink vest. He had thick messy blonde hair that tangled down over his eyes.

'I'm not exactly going to forget it am I?' Cornelius yelled back, a little too loud.

'I wouldn't be so sure.'

'You're an idiot, you know that Luther?'

' Yep, now give it here'

Con' was already unbuttoning it. He handed it too him.

'Cheers'

Luther was standing with a broom in one hand and a smoking revolver in the other.

'Wait, give that back.' Cornelius gushed.

'Nup' too late old boy.' He said, reaching down and wiping the blood from his boots. A headless walker lay on the ground beneath him.

Con' whipped out his thick fists and flew down on Luther.

He yowled in shock. 'Hey, I've got a damn revolver.'

'Then try and use it!' he said dourly.

Luther caught the humor of the situation and began to laugh. Con' stood up over Luther's bruised body. He was a thin frame. Picking up his bloodied t-shirt he walked back inside.

Out on the grass, Luther rolled with laughter. 'Cornelius, come on. Fight me then!' he said between fits of pain and amusement.

Con' walked back in, shoving past Lauren who just stared at him. She saw him holding the soiled t-shirt and a smile swept across her features.

'What happened?' mum asked him.

He stomped past her into the kitchen. Turning the tap on, he washed his shirt beneath the surge.

'Redneck antics.'

The moon breathed its way into existence. Lauren snapped up in her bed. She felt her wound suddenly begin to bleed, the pain was cruel. She had to talk to Josie.

Silently, she hobbled her way down to the hallway. The small living room light was on. She turned to peer in, expecting to see her mother reading.

There was fervent whispering. And when she turned she caught her breath.

'Josie?' she whispered.

'Lauren...' Con' was sitting beside her.

'No' Lauren whispered to herself, inaudible to the others. She turned and walked uneasily out. They both rapidly started whispering again.

As she reached the door, a voice called to her from behind. A hand on her shoulder, then Con' struck her square on the skull, sending her reeling.

'Con, no!' Josie squealed just loud enough.

He beat Lauren back down onto the cold wooden floor, giving her a look to melt ice. She got the message. Whatever that was downstairs, she didn't see it.

The final smite came from above, breaking her nose.

'_Christ, _help me.._.'_


	4. Ruben: Part I - Emerald Eyes

Ruben:

_Part I – Emerald Eyes_

"Jealousy is invariably a symptom of neurotic insecurity." – Robert A. Heinlein

'Ruben!' someone squealed.

I was sprawled out amongst the flat concrete. Wretches charged towards me, faster than I would've liked. A window crashed. More bodies coursed through.

Blam!

Blam!

Bullets erupted over my head. The whole room was dashed in orange light, over and over again. Walkers were blown in half, turning to mist in the air.

Bodies were piling up, sealing my light. Then I was tugged upright and dragged by the wrists out of the room. It felt like my arms were going to be ripped from their sockets.

Up the hallway my bloodied legs trailed. We turned the corner. My brother lay there, a corpse on the tiled floor.

The walls seemed long and heavy as they stood a thick red and grey. Blood and cement. I clattered down the stairs, welding mask hanging loosely halfway down my face.

The air was dense as I was trawled out. Ahead lay the expanse of quietus, behind a scene of slaughter. It's one and the same now.

The road beneath scored gouges in my legs. But on we passed, through massacres and butchery. We reached a timberland crossing first past machinery and stumps. The land shifted like the sands and changed to a heavily wooded area. The oaks were thick as two or three people in places.

I was dragged through into oblivion. Wandering somewhere between insanity and reality…

…I hope that you'll remember,

The days lost in September,

The chill grey dawn,

All children are gone,

The days lost in September…

I don't know why I started singing. I think it was subconscious. I can't even recall where first I heard the lyrics.

…Oh my lord, save my torn heart,

And limbs lost in the fray,

On that awful day,

I hope that you'll remember,

The lives lost in September…

'Ruben' someone called.

…Time ended then.

The clocks slowed down,

The hands they all stopped counting-

-The numbers began to drown.

Now pray that you'll remember,

The time lost in September.

'Ruben!' a smooth hand cupped my mouth. The others stopped. Some knelt, or raised their rifles.

A motor coughed in the distance. I could smell the diesel. As one, the squad kicked off, dashing into the foliage ahead. Firearms rose high as they scampered through.

A warm embrace from behind, then a head poked over my shoulder.

'Natalie?' I said, tears welling.

She kissed him long, lovingly.

'I need you Ruben.' They stood up, Ruben taking the lead, holding her by the hand into the wood.

Ahead, untamed screaming and howling. The others.

An old truck was at a standstill. The windows shattered. Down along the bitumen, a man and woman ran. Following the white lines into the distance, the female turned to look back at the wild pack. She held a baby in her arms. The man rested a hand on her shoulder, turning her. And they fled.

'What was that?' I roared at one of the schoolboys.

He looked at me in disgust and shock. 'What are _you_, Coward?'

Crack. I punched him square in the jaw. Natalie pulled me by the shoulders down onto the ground. Then the boys' foot collided with my stomach.

'You come, or you die.'

'Jay, you don't have to do this.' Natalie said to the boy.

He released his foothold on my gut. And held his hand out. It was shredded. I gripped it, pulling up. He turned to look at the others.

I took the chance, punching him in the back of the skull. On the second swing he ducked under, coming up beneath my chest. He shouldered into me, crashing us both into the ground. Natalie swept in behind Jay, pulling him off onto the ground. He sat there, before turning and grabbing Natalie, kissing her long and hard. She didn't pull away.

I looked at her in astonishment. '…Nat…' I was more like a brother to her. Not some missed love interest.

My hands slithered across the hilt of my mallet.

Jay stood up with Nat' and gave me a smile, knowing how it hurt me more than any fist.

A larger boy, with jet-black skin and short black hair strode over, shouldering past Jay. I remembered him from one of my classes, Antoine.

He pulled a small Colt M1911 pistol from his shorts and handed it to me.

'Take it'. All around, I was looking through the barrels of the others weapons. A final, wrong move and they'd hack me to shreds. I got the message, and tucked the pistol away in the pocket of my torn blazer.

Everyone piled into the cargo hold of the truck and took a seat on the rutted metal floor. The group discussed their next flight, to move up from Atlanta into South Carolina and push to Columbia. Others suggested that it too would be overrun, that they would be better off dodging through the major cities, taking a more rural passage. Apparently, the last reports had pinned Washington D.C safest point for its' military control at the time.

The sun thickened its' colours as it drooped lower in the evening. The debate continued, tempers flaring.

'Everyone just shut up. You talk like the decision is life or death. Right now, the truck is life or death, and if we stay here it'll be an easy decision.' Antoine tuned in, his first words all evening.

'He's right, its not safe here. We can move to the diner a few miles up or try our luck following this road back to the city.' Another student said. He was fatter than the rest, with greasy hair that stuck to his forehead.

'Everyone move to the diner, me and Tubs here'll head back and check out the road.' Kent, another larger boy said, referring to the other.

Everyone begrudgingly packed their rations into backpacks and jumped down onto the road. Marching like the dead into the haven ahead.

I watched as the boys turned the truck and headed off into oblivion.

The diner was dark. Inside, tables were overturned and chairs were splintered. A walker or two lay dead amongst the rubble.

'Hello?' Natalie called out tremulously to no reply.

'I'll check the back' Jay said, marching through past the counter.

The group wrapped up in blankets and ate no supper. The shelves were empty and rations had to be saved.

I lay next to Antoine in the consuming darkness. It was late, and whether or not anyone was asleep could be questioned. The sound of rubber on gravel stirred me. Across the floor, the headlights sent the shapes of the windows dancing through.

The two portly boys silently crept indoors. I could faintly make out their silhouettes in the night. They both got under some blankets. Kent put a thick, full satchel on the ground beside him and appeared to collapse into sleep immediately.

Curiously, I stood up and casually walked out the back, seizing the satchel on the way.

I got to the bathrooms and stepped in, flicking on the light.

Undoing the clasp, I threw the leather covering back. The clothes the two boys had been wearing earlier were screwed up inside, bloody and queerly burnt. I took them out, revealing a pile of rings and jewellery beneath. Photographs of men, women and children were all shoved in with the accessories.

I scrabbled around, looking at each photo, until one of the last held my attention. It was the family from earlier. Mother, Father, Baby child.

These were the families and their jewellery. I held the photo up to the light. I dug around the other pouches; one held a burnt hand, its fingers caked in rings.

It was murder. Then it hit.

Their bloody clothing, burnt.

The hand, burnt.

The Jewellery… bizarrely clean.

They'd burnt the bodies. But why was the clothing bloody? Walkers? No. It was only on the collar. Unless they were…

'Cannibals.' He whispered in the luminescence of the bathroom.

Click.

He looked up into the mirror. Jay held a huge revolver in one hand and gripped Natalie by the hair in the other. The barrel nudged against Ruben's crown.

'You're wrong' the monster said, barely moving his lips.

'No jay, I don't think I am.'

The cold hard trigger snapped back.

Blam!


	5. Ruben: Part II - Crimson Tendencies

Ruben:

_Part II – Crimson Tendencies _

The room explodes in darkness. The long tube lights shatter overhead. Jay pulled his trigger. _At the exact same time as Natalie_. The door behind Jay struck back against the white tiled walls. The shotgun exploded, sending veins of crimson and gold flaming across the room. It blossomed around Jay's body, enveloping him in its tainted grasp. His shot went unbroken into the lights above. Glass hailed around me, ringing on the floor. In the darkness, new shots blew through his body, erupting his chest in carnage. The light of the weapon continued well into the dark, its fingers outstretching even to me. Tentacles fingering ever closer. Then it cut off, shots warbling indelibly through the air.

Jay's body stopped trembling on its dead feet. I was slammed back against the far wall as his body flew across the room into mine on the final discharge. It felt like all my ribs cracked as one on impact. My head slapped against the wall, sending a framework of blood scattering across it.

Natalie rushed to meet me. Her eyes were wide with fear and shock. Her face was patterned with Jay's lifeblood. It dripped down off her chin and around the corner of her lips.

She just stared at me, stuck in a nauseating disquiet. Then she gripped my shoulders and kissed me long and hard.

The door across the room was kicked open once more, several students pushing through.

Tubs', the fat, greasy haired student stood at the forefront of the action, along with Kent. They saw the satchel on the bench, rings scattered on the floor.

I smiled then, when they looked at me in shock and distress. Natalie spun,

'Their cannibals' she gushed. The two boys smiled.

'We know' Antoine stepped forward, 'and you just slaughtered Jay.'

In a flash, they were both being dragged on their knees through the diner, out into the car park.

'Antoine, you don't have to do this.' Ruben said, trying to be calm, but the quiver at the end of his sentence ended all hopes of that.

'I think I do.'

'Antoine...'

'No! I don't care Ruben, I don't care about you or your backstabbing harlot.'

'Then why-'

Kent landed a flying blow to the side of his face, sending him toppling over onto the gravel. Beside him, Tubs' was necking Natalie whilst her hands were tied from behind.

'-Did you give me this?'

Ruben pulled the colt Antoine gave him earlier and cocked it, blowing Kent's cranium into mist. He turned, blasting Antoine in the gut. He collapsed backwards into the tire of the truck, grasping his gaping wound.

The other kids stared in horror. Ruben placed his barrel against the back of Tubs' head. The boy slowly slipped the rifle off his back… …and handed it to Ruben butt first, who hooked it over his shoulder.

'Natalie?' he said, reaching down for her hand. She took it, gracefully returning to her feet. He handed his newly acquired weapon to her, and they both stood awkwardly with their firearms aimed at the students.

'No!' Antoine screamed and roared as they both walked regally away.

'KILL THEM!'

Squabbling in the dirt, he reached for his pistol. Cocked it, aimed with one hand down the road.

Blam!

Tubs' already had his pistol out.

The last Ruben saw, a figure reached over Antoine's body, and the other kids pulled him away inside the diner.

It was only a few hours later when the sun manifested itself on the ambit of his vision. They'd followed the rode for half a mile, before steering back into the woodlands to the west. Skyscrapers soared above the trees to their south, ominously beautiful, signs of a lost world; one no one could control, nor ever hope too. The evenings passed, every hour more vital than its predecessor, every moment of his life _mattered, _and it shocked him at first. But he soon grew used to belonging to the single society around him, the unnatural world that grew without neither hurry nor haste.

It was a morning later, maybe two. Natalie held a bottle of wine or whisky, or maybe even scotch. He didn't know anymore. Their clothes were soggy, dirty. His jumper was hanging over the rope they'd strewn between trees. They sat with their backs to a satellite dish overlooking Atlanta.

'Take it.' She handed him the bottle, He shrugged and took it, downing a long swig. He swished the remaining liquid.

'Watch this.' He tore a long piece of cloth off his sleeve and rolled it up, tucking it into the bottle before striking a lighter. Nat' said she'd stolen it from Tubs', or was that Kent, or Antoine, or… he couldn't remember.

He lit the shirt that hung from the neck of the bottle.

'What are you doing?' Natalie yelled in sudden panic. Ruben just laughed wildly, manically. He held the bottle out in one hand, looking at her. Spinning, he tossed it swiftly. It arced across the view, crashing down somewhere in the trees below.

On a street somewhere down the hill, a thick, grumbling vehicle could be heard gunning the engine, Skittering on the gravel and hastily taking off up the veiled road.

'You _idiot' _she said, running across through the thicket to where the road stumbled upon the crest.

He raced off after her, tearing his jumper almost in two as he yanked it off the line.

The trees thinned and abated as he neared the interstate.

From the side, a hand rushed out and halted on his chest, holding him back. Natalie.

A filthy RV rattled up the road.

'Wait here.' Ruben pulled the colt from his waistband and started out. Natalie slowly pulled the rifle off her shoulder and trained it on the road ahead. Ruben traipsed, head down and steely-eyed onto the middle of the road. The vehicle ahead didn't seem to be slowing down. He stared at the woman driving.

It sped up, hammering down on him. In a final attempt he dropped his pistol and raised his hands.

It was too late, the car slammed into him. It was closer than he'd thought; alcohol does that to a man.

It felt like his body split in two.

The glass in front of him exploded in a fountain of blood. At first he thought it was his own. Then he heard the gunshots ringing in his ears. Natalie ran out to meet him. The RV met a brisk conclusion to its acceleration.

Natalie held his head under her chin. She screamed his name, howling in animal wretchedness and ire.

Rivulets of blood fissured the pale yellow frontage of the RV.

On the road in front, that's where she held him.

His forehead was broken, eyes distant. A long, gaping wound cleaved through his torso like an oozing canal. Tears watered down his blood.

Natalie hardly noticed the figure step down from the RV; it sat on its haunches, hands buried in its face.

A young boy, eight or nine, skinny but tall with bright crimson lips and thick unkempt hair the colour of oak hopped down beside the figure. Three starving dogs followed him down, heads by his heels.

He marched across in front of Natalie and Ruben. Hands stiff by his side.

Ruben looked up into his bright blue eyes. The child met his ebbing gaze.

_His name was Tony._


	6. Tony - 20th Century Baseball Stars

Tony

They say the first bullet fired is never the last. When the walker in front had its forehead shattered into two, Tony prayed it would be. Alas, his plea trickled imperceptibly into the pastel sky above.

Shots flawed the brief equilibrium. Gravel sparked into the air, scattering Dana in its flinty splinters.

The dogs emerged from behind the house, circling the scene.

* * *

'He'll come back… they always do.'

The girl just peered into the black road. It seemed a long while before she replied. 'He won't.' She drew a blade from her belt. A single deep breath was all it took for it to come dripping out of the boys' forehead.

'He _won't_'.

From behind, the dark, towering figure of Joseph stepped in behind her. A pistol hung loosely in his grip. He held it up, point blank to her crown.

She turned, the boys head in her lap. 'Do it.'

He lowered the gun and swallowed hard.

I could see the plain fear Joseph bore.

Slowly, he dropped the pistol. It was the only sound.

The hands that now hung at his side came together, and he slipped two wedding rings off his finger.

His breath was long, tired. Then he turned and threw them off into oblivion

* * *

He watched as life crashed around him.

Tory retreated back into the house, tugging Dana along with her. The girls' legs trailed limply along the street, into the house. Tony walked behind. It felt like he had forgotten how to run. The dogs just padded around him as the bullets slowed. At the doorway, he turned and looked out. Men were already filing up the streets. Ten, fifteen, more. He couldn't tell.

Then the wooden door was shut in front of him. It was far too quiet in the room. Dana stared helplessly through Tory, who shook her violently, gave up, and slid to the floor, back against the lounge.

The window gave view to the encroaching host. Turning the corner.

Smiling at the house, one man signaled to the others.

Tony spun and walked through the room, through the kitchen. He stepped into the small backyard, littered with a child's dusty toys mingled with the corpse of his mother.

He walked out into the centre, where she lay. The dogs licked at her heels.

His legs buckled beneath him, and he found himself kneeling.

'Mum.'

'Tony' he thought he heard her reply.

'I'm frightened mum.'

'So are they.'

'How do you know?'

'Because you're still alive.'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'The world is dead, my child. All must fear the living. You are alive, Tony. Let them fear you...'

He looked into the cold, dissolving sockets of her eyes. Kissed her on the forehead.

A hand gripped him on the shoulder, tighter than ever he'd felt before. Then a fist came crashing into his temple and he rolled across the grass. The dogs bayed and leapt about.

From the corner of his vision, Tony saw men charging into the yard, five or six at least.

'Let them.' Tony whispered. His hand gripped a ski pole on his back and ripped it out, slicing across the devil's face. The impact half ripped his eye out and left a gash running from scalp to chin. In moments, the second pole was out, and he had whipped the man onto the ground beside his mother. The next took a barb to the throat, before the shaft came tearing down and he collapsed.

A bullet crashed into the fence behind. Everyone stopped moving. A man-mountain stepped into the yard, holding Dana and Tory by the hair at his sides.

The crowd parted for him.

Tony set his jaw sternly and rushed forward. Someone tried to reach out for him, he plunged a needle through their boot.

Squealing in fury he swung his ski poles high, bringing them down on… Nothing. It jarred agonizingly. They laughed. Everyone.

Tony hung his head low, sweat dripping from his slick hair. He twisted, seeing the faces. His hand arced up and cast one of the stakes. It quivered in the brief wind, then crashed through a man's chest.

Tony dove on top of his body and picked a shard of corrugated fencing off the grass, plunging it into the monster's face, again and again and again. It felt like a thousand hands dragged him away. There was no more laughter from his audience… Only fear.

'Those rings aren't yours.' Tony growled as he was plunged down in front of The Mountain.

'What?' He asked, curiously cocking his head to the side.

'The walker you sent us, their mother.' He nodded towards the girls, 'Her fingers were torn and bloody, but where the band would lay was raw to the bone. One ring's bloody, the other remains as gold as the day it slipped on. Where's _Joseph_?'

The Mountain laughed deep in his chest. Then slowed and look at Tony, intrigued by his hypothesis.

'You know, that's a very interesting notion. That one would, even in such a hell beaten land as this, remain intrigued by such… _human _provision.'

Tony didn't break his transfixing gaze as his arms were pulled back oppressively behind him.

'Give him the Rabbit.'

A kid took off through the house. Moments later, a car door was kicked open and Joseph was carried in over a shoulder.

Dana screamed when she saw her father, wriggling her head and shoulders, trying to break the hold. Her aggressor twisted his grip on her hair.

Tony was released as Joseph was tossed onto the ground.

'You'll kill him, boy. It's the least he deserves.'

'He's done _nothing_ to you!' Tory screamed.

Joseph pulled himself up into Tony's ear. 'Please boy, do it.'

Tony swallowed and searched the ground for courage.

'I murdered his daughter… in the beginning.' The father coughed and turned to Tory. Tears molded his eyes.

'They were climbing her legs. Clawing at her eyes. So I…I.'

'That's not murder, it's mercy.' Tony whispered back.

'I shot her'

'With what?'

'A pistol'

'Where?' Tony asked.

Joseph turned once more to face Tory. She smiled sadly from the corner of her lips. Then tucked her hand inside her black bomber-jacket.

Click.

Then the smoke and flame erupted. Bullets struck out. Bodies were thrown off their feet and cracked the earth.

The Mountain ruptured her skull with a crunch of his knee. Dana struck back as he forgot her and broke his left kneecap with a fist. He collapsed, all seven-foot, down onto one knee. Tory then split the side of his head with an elbow. Gore flew across Dana.

He was struck by shock, his eyes wide, as Tony helped pull Joseph to his ragged feet. The father lifted the bat beside him and stood hunched in front his captor.

'Murderer.' The Mountain spat.

It was a long time as he watched him. The bat swung slowly back and forth.

Tory fired off shot after shot, until the torn and beaten company was reduced to begging for life.

It was silent as the two men stood paralyzed.

The bat tapped the ground as it fell.

The Mountain dropped his grip on the girls. They scrambled out from beneath him.

The life seemed to come hissing out of his breath.

'Leave now.' Joseph whispered to the remnants of survivors as he turned. Bodies littered the grass. An old man stood up, releasing Tony's dogs.

He nodded, 'Thank you.'

A mother raced forward, holding her murdered son.

'Leave him, Marianne.' She turned and looked back in horror at the aged man.

He waved his hand to come.

She looked from him to the Mountain.

Then kissed her son on the forehead and they all moved out, ambling like stricken vagrants in their frayed and worn-out clothing.

Slowly, the dead would rise.

Joseph turned to the monster behind. In front, two golden wedding rings lay side-by-side, one still wobbling on the ground. Joseph reached down; slipping them on, then kicked the bat. It rolled to The Mountain.

'These are your people. You could not protect them. I only hope you have better luck with yourself.'

The man ground his teeth.

And Tony, Joseph, Tory and Dana loped from the house.

The keys were locked hard in the mangled door of the RV. But soon they left the community behind. The road lead deep into the bands of Ochre, Crimson and the thickening blue of the final lights before the moon gave way to a heavenly body of stars.

* * *

Days on the road are long and slow. A constant of getting out, moving broken cars, broken bodies. Hacking at the dead.

The RV was stocked with cans of soup. At first they'd swallowed everything they could, before they started noticing how little they had to last.

Joseph recovered slowly, mostly he lay on the single bed at the back, sleeping and eating.

By night, faces haunted the cabin, some dimly lit by the flicker of the lights in Atlanta. They stalked down the road together, a haunting parade.

Dana skirted the city, and came through into a dark overpass that scurried down into the skyscrapers. She pulled to a stop at the side of the road. Tory was half asleep at the table behind.

She checked the windows, locked those that weren't already. Then latched the door behind her as she climbed to the roof. She had one of her father's clubs as she sat with her legs dangling over the side, waiting till midnight when she swapped with Tory.

Dana stepped out in the morning to find her sister's club on the ground and one legs hanging limply down over the window.

She almost screamed when Tory sat up straight, hair a cobweb of strands. She yawned absurdly wide. 'Oh, hey Dana.'

In reply, she simply walked away, mouth ajar in speechless shock.

Soon, everyone was back in the vehicle and they roared down the road into the tree line.

Joseph cleared his throat at the back of the room. 'Take it easy, there could be plenty of walkers out here on the edge.'

It was eerily quiet for a good half hour, before they crossed over a slope and far ahead a lonely walker stood in the middle of the road.

'Dana…' Tory whispered.

Then she saw, it was holding a pistol by its' side.

'That's no walker.' Joseph stepped in beside Tory, sitting down at the table.

'What do I do?' Dana squealed.

Joseph stared at the pistol in the man's grasp- no; he was little more than a teenager. 'Keep going, he'll move.'

They crept closer; Dana sped up, trying to frighten him.

Tory slid her pistol across the table; Joseph pushed a magazine in and cocked it.

Within 50 meters and still he didn't move. Just staring at Dana with a cold-blooded glare.

25 meters, and he dropped his pistol.

10, he raised his hands.

5 meters, and all hell broke loose.

The window of the door shattered into splinters. It blew towards Dana, arcing up as a bullet shot through the debris.

The boy slammed into the RV, his head whipped against the windshield, sending blood hailing on the glass like a deluge of rain.

By the time he was hit, Dana already had a bullet lodged in her skull. Joseph watched as her body twisted in the seatbelt, her head hanging loosely forward.

Tory leapt into action, taking the steering wheel just as the RV slid right. Pushing in beside Dana she thrust down on the brakes. The whole vehicle lurched forward and halted in mid-movement.

Joseph walked heavily down the three stairs, opened the door and stepped out. It was searing hot in the middle of the road, be he didn't seem to notice, just crouched down, sobbing into his palms.

A girl stepped out of the woodland, a rifle over her shoulder. She sat down, leaning against the pale yellow front of the RV, holding the boy in her arms.

In the cabin, Tory just shook her sister violently. A small, lanky body jumped down from the bunk bed. Somewhere, in the middle of all hell, they'd forgotten Tony. He'd lay there, one of the dogs under his arm. He'd been reading some book about baseball stars of the 20th century. He'd found it in a cupboard.

As he hit the ground, the other two hounds emerged from nowhere in particular.

He looked curiously at Tory shaking her sister, screaming. Then jumped down into the sweltering day. He acknowledged Joseph's crying body, then walked slowly out in front.

The girl held her head low. Hands covered in her friend's blood.

Then the boy looked up, and Tony felt the child's life slipping away.

'He'll come back… they always do.' Tony whispered.

The girl just peered into the black road. It seemed a long while before she replied. 'He won't.' She drew a blade from her belt. A single deep breath was all it took for it to come dripping out of the boys' forehead.

'He _won't_'.

From behind, the dark, towering figure of Joseph stepped in behind her. A pistol hung loosely in his grip. He held it up, point blank to her crown.

She turned, the boys head in her lap. 'Do it.'

He lowered the gun and swallowed hard.

I could see the plain fear Joseph bore.

Slowly, he dropped the pistol. It was the only sound.

The hands that now hung at his side came together, and he slipped two wedding rings off his finger.

His breath was long, tired. Then he turned and threw them off into oblivion.

He left the woman he once loved far behind in the middle of a dark gravel abyss.

'It is finished, Tory.' Joseph coughed and turned away.

'It's impossible out here. We'll have you with us. We've both seen more death then any should ever have to. What is done is past.' Tory said.

Tony stared hard at the girl. 'No, she won't come.'

'I can't' she whispered.

Everyone stood silently on the road. A brief wind had picked up and the girl's dark hair blew across her face.

Tony, Joseph and Tory trudged inside. The pistol remained in their place.

The girl stood up and dragged her friend to the side. The blood stained RV rattled as the engine moaned.

Tony ran to the rear as the vehicle started its ascent back into anonymity.

Joseph put his hand on Tony's shoulder, and they watched as the girl stared off down the road at them. Then, little more than a dark silhouette in the glaring sun that hovered unforgiving over the metropolis, she took hold of the pistol. And started off down the road, more than a walker, but less than a human…

* * *

"...a hero of the game is born not through sheer talent, nor is it purely an attitude. But, rather, a legend is arguably born when they are faced with adversity and show the talent to survive this. Hence, in such a situation the audience breeds his attitude. The player may then breathe off that. Or he can suffocate by it."

From:_ Baseball Stars of the 20__th__ Century_

Richard Reynolds ( T.C, New Jersey, 2003)


End file.
